Thank You
by ShellyMay
Summary: Molly's journey after the fall. Or at least. An idea that came to me. Mycroft and Sherlock whisk Molly away for her safety. Sherlock and she end up living together from time to time when he's injured or can't do any more work on the network for now. Rated M for violence, possible suicidal themes and sexual content.
1. Thank You

_**Okay, this isn't going to be a very long story. Sherlock will remain asexual for the duration of this story and if a say anything else it'll give everything away… Enjoy! ShellyMay**_

__Thank You

Everything happened in a blur. She was on her way out, her bag hung from her shoulder, her hand almost at the door. Then he was there. Saying that she'd always counted. Her heart pounded in her chest and she clutched her bag. She struggled to breathe when he said he'd always trusted her. The instinct took over then. "What do you need?" She had to help him, in any way she could.

Her heart skipped a beat when he simply said. "You."

"Me? What can I do?" Her voice was surprisingly strong, when internally she was panicking. Then he was leading her back to her office, sitting on the couch in there and talking about this crazy plan to fool Jim from IT. Only it wasn't sweet affectionate Jim. It was James Moriarty, the consulting criminal, Sherlock's opposite in all ways.

Of course she agreed. So when the time came and he was again lying on her autopsy table, a statue of ice and crimson blood she forced herself to be strong. She called his brother, quickly. Arranging for his pickup and some new clothes then turned back to the thin body on her table. She had to steady her hands and take a few deep breaths. If she got it wrong he'd go into cardiac arrest. She carefully prepped the adrenal extract. Found a strong vein despite his almost non-existent heart rate and injected the clear liquid into his blood stream.

As she waited for it to work and him to wake up, looking at her smugly in success of his improbable plan she started cleaning the blood from his face, neck and hair. She'd been humming to herself feeling impossibly alone and small in the darkened room.

"Thank you." She whipped around sharply at the sound of his voice. Cursing herself from taking her eyes of him to put the bloody towels in the wash piles, she started over to him. As she walked he moved to sit up, only to slump back down.

"Sherlock, you've got to wait half an hour before you'll be able to move, even then you'll need assistance. You've got some minor injuries that will heal quickly." She told him, placing her hands on the edge of the table. "Mycroft will be here soon."

He gave a small nod at this though frowning like a child then looked at her face carefully. His voice was hoarse and she was taken aback by his question. "Why are you crying?"

"Oh, it just happens when I get stressed." She said wiping her face self-consciously. "A side effect of my anxiety."

"Oh, um, okay" He said still frowning. She gave him a small smile to show him that everything would be alright with her then turned.

"I'll get you a class of water. You sound croaky." She walked to the small kitchenette outside the morgue.

"Thank you." He said as she helped him into a sitting position before holding a glass to his lips. He sipped a few times before she put the water on the table next to them.

"Mycroft should be here with fresh clothes soon. Then you can get out of your bloody ones." She informed him as the man in question strolled in with his umbrella and briefcase and a pile of clothes tucked neatly under his arm.

"I can see that." Sherlock told her smiling slightly.

"What?" she asked, turning around to look at what Sherlock was staring at past her head. "Oh."

"Good evening Dr Hooper. You've really out done yourself this time brother." He said as he started placing things on the table. Wordlessly he handed the clothes to Sherlock, who took them with great effort only to have Molly catch them when he couldn't hold them on his own. "My, my brother you're weak as a kitten. Well I'm sure Miss Hooper will be happy to assist you. Then my dear we've got business to discuss."

"What?" She squeaked, turning crimson. Then looking confused she turned to Sherlock. "Business?"

"You haven't told her?" Mycroft looked surprised.

Sherlock glared at his brother over her head before looking down at her. "If you could please help me off the table, I'd like to get out of these bloody clothes."

"S-sure." She stuttered, beginning to revert to her meek self.

He leaned heavily on her and she tucked his clothes under her arm before leading him down the hall to a locker room.


	2. Business

_**Hello lovelies, I must say I wasn't expecting reviews already… They were a nice surprise thank you. Here is the next chapter for your enjoyment. ShellyMay**_

Business

Molly was aware that her skin had blossomed red as she helped him undress. As she wet another cloth, handed it to him, their hands touching for much too long as he struggled with his grip, then as he trailed the cloth over his neck, chest and as much of his shoulder as he could manage. It became apparent that she would have to clean where he could not reach. Biting her lip she took the cloth and moved around to the smooth, contoured plains of his back.

When it came time to remove his trousers Molly couldn't cope with the silence weighing her down so she blurted the first thing that came to mind. "Business."

"Hmm?" Sherlock rumbled smoothly.

"What was the business that Mycroft was talking about before?" Molly asked, breathing deeply and doing her best to avoid looking at his pants.

"You're coming with us." He said simply, unfazed when she froze slack-jawed.

By the time she had snapped out of it he'd got his trousers mostly on and was attempting to put an arm through his shirt. Quickly she helped him, buttoning it up before allowing him to tuck it in neatly and do his trousers and belt up. As he stood on his own and much steadier this time she spoke. "I can't Sherlock. I have a life here. Our friends are going to need me. I have my job, I have Toby. I can't just disappear."

"Molly this isn't up for discussion. By asking for you to assist me I have placed you in great danger. I jumped off the roof to save three of the people that I care about, that form my 'heart' as Moriarty so sentimentally put it. This is what I have to do to save the one person he forgot. Moriarty has a network out there. He was the centre of a web with over a thousand strings. Surely they will realize something."

"Sherlock." Molly breathed a frown creasing her forehead.

"And to be completely honest…" He looked like he was struggling to say it. "I'd like a connection to my old life while I'm gone."

She was aware he'd probably said it to manipulate her, but it worked, there was never a day when it wouldn't. "Toby comes too; it'd look weird if I just went away without my pet or belongings and I still get to keep contact with everyone, if not for my sake then for theirs. We are a family Sherlock and a family grieves together."

"Alright." He nodded slipping on an almost identical version of his ruined belstaff. The only thing his brother had missed was a scarf.

They slowly returned to the lab, Sherlock walking without her support although rather slowly. "Ahh, brother. You look well for a dead man. Thanks to Miss Hooper no doubt." His smile sent shivers of discomfort down Molly's spine, a motion she was sure Sherlock noticed out of the corner of his eye because he stepped forward slightly.

"Molly has a few conditions. I can't see a problem in any of them so I trust you can make the arrangements. Surely your lackeys are competent enough to deal with collecting her possessions from her home along with her cat Toby and move them to our safe house."

The second blur began; signing papers, talking out details, being ushered into a sleek black car and whisked away into the night. Gliding smoothly along the road Molly lost the fight to stay awake as her adrenaline finally waned. Sandwiched between Sherlock and Anthea left her one viable option left and she slumped in to Sherlock, not caring when he stiffened uncomfortably.

When she woke up Molly didn't know where she was. Just that she was clutching the world's only consulting detective. As soon as her sleep ridden mind processed that thought she sat bolt upright in the pale light that signalled dawn.

The bed was huge, soft and clearly expensive. Molly looked back towards Sherlock and the events of the past twenty four hours caught her brain in a rapid fire of images. "Where are we? Why was I holding you while I slept?"

"We are at our new safe house, as for while you were holding me, you wouldn't let go after I carried you in here." He said looking at me intently.

"Oh sorry about that, that can't be pleasant for you, what with you aversion to physical contact and the fact that you probably have bruising around your ribs and abdomen as a result of your fall." Molly was bright red by the time she'd finished speaking but she couldn't seem to help it. If she was going to live with him she would have to get herself together. "Can we go to the kitchen? I think I need a cuppa."

He nodded and swiftly rose from the bed.


	3. Life

_**Hello, gosh I'm writing this quickly… Well I just want to warn you that this chapter contains suicidal themes. Please enjoy. ShellyMay**_

"Sherlock..." Molly breathed as he walked into the lounge room. Initially he thought it was the cut on his cheekbone that had her so worried then he observed her. She'd been crying, her eyes and nose puffy and red, still weeping slightly. One of his shirts on, a common occurrence as he bulked up too much to fit them and she sought out a comfort in them he failed to provide. Tissues scattered on the coffee table and the small bin next to it. The phone still clutched tightly in her hand.

"Molly, what is it?" He asked trying and failing to think of what would get her so worked up.

"Greg called today. He was worried about me. About how I was holding up. God Sherlock, he sounded scared, so I asked him what was, what was wrong." She spoke shakily. Fresh tears were forming. "It was about John. That's what scared him so much Sherlock. John's been hospitalized."

"By who?" Sherlock ground out, he'd kill whoever laid a hand on his best friend.

"Well, Greg said that he's doing much better now, and that they're keeping him on observant-"

"Who did it to him Molly?" Sherlock growled forcefully.

"John." It was all she could think of saying. The look in Sherlock's eyes petrified her making her stumble to get the words out. "John, he had his gun. Was going to kill himself. Mrs Hudson and Greg, they were visiting him, made him stop. Greg had to drag him to the hospital. He's in the psych ward now. He's going to go back to his councillor. He'll have people looking after him."

"Why?" Sherlock looked lost now, confused. In the past he had contemplated it himself, of course he had. When the world was too loud, too bright, it often seemed the only way to dull everything. To make everything stop. But John, John was strong. Brave. He was a soldier. Why would he do that?

"Oh Sherlock," Molly breathed curling in on herself on the couch. "Don't you see, he's lost his purpose. Before you, he was dealing with this as well. Then you came into his life, and he was the soldier again. He had something to live for. Now you're gone. He's been diagnosed with severe depression and put on medication Sherlock."

"I never realized that I could mean that much to someone." Sherlock said slumping down next to her.

His head snapped to look at her again as she touched his shoulder. "Sherlock Holmes, you listen to me. You don't just mean that much to one person. You mean that much too so many people. John, Mrs Hudson, Greg, myself, heck even Anderson is convinced you're coming back. Although I don't know if that means he's sorry or can't deal with the fact that he was wrong about you." She stopped and looked him in the eye, when she was satisfied she stood and walked into the bathroom fetching the first aid kit. "Now, let me look at that cut."

Sherlock let her fuss over him. Before standing and making them both a cup of tea. They drank in relative silence before Molly moved over to the window and picked up his new violin. "Play something please."

He stood by the window and began to play the composition he'd been making about his new life aware that molly was moving around behind him, tidying up and organizing folders and the computer for him to look at once he'd finished playing. She then moved to the kitchen and took two bowls out of the fridge to reheat.

He was at a particularly calm part of the piece, inspired by his pathologist when Molly came back to the lounge room with their dinner. It was soft and comforting with strong and confident tones streaked through it. The song slowly changed into one he had once composed about John this however was now tainted by longing and sadness as guilt twinged in his chest.

"That's new. Sherlock, it's lovely." She said as he put the instrument down and joined her. He didn't particularly want to eat but picked at his food and eating only a small amount to make Molly feel better. He had to admit, while living with her eating more often had made him much stronger, benefiting him as it made his mission much easier in some respects when it came to taking down the network and gathering information.

"It's my life." He said simply, spooning rice and chicken into his mouth.

"What?" He smiled at her confused look.

"I'll play it for you and see if you can pick out the different parts." He told her putting his plate down and moving back to the window.

"Oh, that's the violent parts of your life," She said straight away making him smile. "And the times when you're bored, or can't do something for a while." She frowned at the part of the song inspired by her. When he'd finished playing again she looked at him with big doe eyes and asked "Was that John?"

"Three out of four Molly, you left your part out." He said looking at her softly. He started playing the notes he had dedicated to her before turning his back to stare out of the window. Not surprised when she wrapped her arms around his waist from behind.


	4. Human

_**Hello again, I don't know what you're going to think about this chapter. Enjoy, ShellyMay**_

__Human

Gradually, over time Sherlock began to touch her. Not in a sexual way as Molly had often fantasized about. No, these touches made Sherlock seem normal; brushing her hand when she handed him cups of coffee or files, bumping into her in the hallway, a hand on her shoulder or back when she needed comfort or needed to get out of the flat and he didn't deem it safe for her to go alone. He was still rude, childish and at times absolutely intolerable. Yet she was starting to be exposed to the Sherlock that John had lived with. Now that they weren't together only when he needed something they were starting to be exposed to the personality traits saved everywhere else. Then one day, as they looked over documents and maps and various other bits of information Molly saw something. At each of the places where Sherlock had taken down one part of the network or another there was a photo of a man. He looked ruthless and military.

"Sherlock, have you seen this? He's following you. He appears in surveillance footage a few day after you've been to each of these place." Molly said lining the pictures up on the coffee table.

"Oh, this is wonderful. Thank you Molly, this is the last detail I needed." He said excitedly clapping his hands before leaning over and kissing her on the mouth. It lasted a fraction of a second before he settled down and delved into his Mind Palace.

Later that night a sleepless Molly shuffled out to the kitchen to make a cup of tea and saw Sherlock slinking down the hallway. On impulse she left her tea and hurried after him, just as he opened the door she hugged him quickly and murmured a quick "I love you." before retreating to the kitchen and her tea.

She spent the next few days berating herself and becoming increasingly worried at his absence. Sherlock did not do emotions, or sentiment. At all. She'd probably scared him off with her declaration. So when in the middle of the night as she was tossing and turning unable to sleep and he slipped into her room sitting on top of the covers she immediately stiffened waiting for his harsh words.

So when he carefully laced his hand through hers and stroked her hair softly she thought she must be dreaming. "Molly, I struggle to deal with sentiment. I have spent a large amount of my life training myself to ignore it. However I care for you deeply, living with you has made me realize a lot of things about both you and myself. There is something that you must understand explicitly though and that is that I am asexual. I don't desire sex. However, I enjoy your company and find your intellect quite attractive."

"Okay." She murmured rolling over to snuggle up to him.

"Okay?" He voiced confusedly clearly expecting something entirely different. "No one has ever just accepted this about me before Molly."

"Sherlock, it's okay. I love you, sure I feel attraction for you at a physical level but that's not important. It's unsurprising that you're asexual considering the only time I've seen you show interest in anyone was with that Adler woman. I've never bothered to question your relationship with John as it's quite clear to me that that's a fraternal bond more than anything else. I'm happy with anything you have to offer." Molly told him carefully.

"Thank you Molly." His voiced rumbled in his chest as she rested her head on it.

"That's okay Sherlock, now would you mind staying in here tonight. You don't have to sleep or anything I just miss you." She asked looking up at him with big doe eyes.

"I'll be back in five minutes." He told her quietly slipping out the door.

She was just nodding off when she felt the covers move and weight on the other side of the bed. Rolling over she draped an arm across his chest as she rested her head on his shoulder.


End file.
